Giving Anya
by Admiral
Summary: Anya's done with her list. Is she being naughty or nice? XA, as it should be.


Disclaimer: Buffy-The Vampire Slayer and all related characters are the property of Mutant Enemy Productions, Inc., Sandollar Television, Kuzui Enterprises and Twentieth Century-Fox Television. No copyright infringement is intended. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money has changed hands. The story and all original characters are the sole property of the author and may not be used or archived without permission.

  
  


Author's Note: Xander's POV again. Anya Claus is coming to town.

  
  


Giving Anya

by Darrin Colbourne

  
  


It's good to be home. The last full day of work before Christmas ended on a good note, and I'm looking forward to spending this evening with Anya. We'd slated this time to wrap presents, something which she's grown to love. (At first, she was kind of put off by the whole "giving valuable consumer goods for no appreciable return" thing, but I managed to convince her that it was kind of a "surprise bartering" system, where you trade secret goods for other secret goods and hope you get lucky like investing in the stock market, and that seemed to turn her around.)

I walk into the apartment and find Anya sitting on the floor by the tree. She's wearing a red skirt and a Christmasy sweater with reindeer all over it. Boxes, wrapping paper and the gifts are surrounding her, all waiting to be turned into colorful packages. She closed the Magic Box early today--at the risk of severe psychological trauma, I'm sure, given the loss of all those potential sales--so that she could pick up some last-minute items. "Hey, babe!" I say as I go to join her.

"Hi, sweetie!" She says, smiling at me. I smile back and give her a big kiss when I get close. "Dinner is keeping warm on the stove." She says when we break. "I wanted to get everything ready here so we can get started right after we eat."

"Good idea." I say, then take a close look at the assortment of goodies on the floor. I recognize the stuff that I bought and ordered, and I assume the unfamiliar gifts are Anya's. A couple of them make me cock my head in confusion, since they don't seem to have any rhyme or reason to them. I kneel down next to my girl and pick one up. This object is familiar...but different.

"Isn't this one of Buffy's stakes?" I say. The shape is recognizable. It's short and blunt, with a pencil sharp point at one end and a knobby handle on the other. That isn't the problem. "What did you do to it?"

"I had it silver-plated," Anya says brightly, "and engraved. Read it."

I turn the stake in my hand and catch the engraving halfway down the shaft. It reads:

  
  


Keeping Sunnydale free from Vampires-

Lots of "Mr. Pointys"

Saving the world from a power-mad Mayor Snake-

One blown-up school

Protecting the Key to the Multiverse from a Valley Girl Goddess-

One death, some funeral costs and lots of mental anguish

  
  


Six years of Slaying and still going strong-

Priceless.

  
  


I stare at it for a long time before I can come up with anything to say, until I finally fall back on: "That's...cute, honey." Her intact smile indicates that it was a good response.

"I hope Buffy likes it." She says. "Maybe she can put it on her mantle or something."

"Maybe." I say. What else can she do with it, since it's now officially useless for killing vampires? I put the engraved stake down and look at another gift. It's a flag. I pick it up and unfold it so I can get a better look. "This...this is a Japanese flag."

She nods and says "Circa 1939."

I look again. Sure enough, it's an Imperial Japanese Flag, with a big red sun in the center and red sun rays shooting out in all directions, right out of the movie "Tora! Tora! Tora!" "Where did you get it?" I say.

"From that Army-Navy place a few blocks down from the store. The salesman there said it's authentic, that a bunch of Marines brought it back from some place called...um...Guadalupe? Guadalajara?"

"Guadalcanal?" I prompt.

"Yes, that was it!"

"Who are you giving this to?"

"Dawnie, of course."

Now I'm even more confused, and it shows on my face. "'Dawnie, of course'? Why 'Dawnie, of course'?"

Anya looks at me like I'm being particularly non-with-it today. "It represents the 'Empire of the Rising Sun'. 'Rising Sun'. 'Dawn'. Get it?"

"Oh, now it's all clear." I say, sarcasm knob turned up to full. "And just what will miss 'Rising Sun' do with it?"

"I imagine she'll put it up over her bedroom door for privacy."

"For 'privacy'???"

"Sure! Nothing says 'Keep Out' better than a banner that evokes images of fanatical killers waving samurai swords and screaming 'BANZAI!!'"

I just look at my bride-to-be for a moment, making a mental note that we're due for another conversation about political correctness. I gently refold the flag and put it down, then move on to the next items on Anya's list. Two copies of the same book are waiting to be wrapped in similar paper. I pick one up and read the title.

"'The Penguin Book of Lesbian Short-Stories'?" I say.

"For Willow and Tara." Anya explains. "They've been through a lot lately and I'm hoping it will help them get back together."

"A book is going to help them get back together?"

"It'll be so romantic! They'll open the books at the same time when they're all alone in their respective bedrooms, they'll start to read the stories, think of each other, then they'll reminisce about how good they were together and then feel all warm and gushy..."

I can feel my face contort into a mask of utter shock as I look at Anya.

"Figuratively, you pervert! They'll get emotionally 'warm and gushy'! I mean...I guess 'emotionally'. I didn't have time to read all the stories in the book, and there may be a couple of racy ones..."

"Stop! I get it!" I say, as I mourn the screaming death of another semi-pleasurable fantasy image. It's always a dream-killer when your fiancé's train of thought can be as torrid as yours. "This is me, 'getting it'." I put the book down, and a flash of gold catches my eye. The next gift is an old-fashioned pocket watch, and it's resting on a...bank statement? "Who's that for?" I say, pointing at the objects.

"I'm going to ship that to Giles." Anya says. "It occurred to me that when he stopped being Buffy's Watcher and stopped taking an active interest in the Magic Box he never really had a good retirement party."

Then it hits me. "So you decided to send him a gold watch?"

"Uh-huh! Isn't it beautiful?" She says, beaming.

"There are no words..." I mumble as I consider the papers the watch is resting on. "And the bank statement?"

"That's actually the quarterly report for the store, to let him know that his investment is chugging along just fine without him."

"Good, Anya," I say, not knowing what else to tell her, "that's real good." Yeah. Real good. Let him know that he's both old and useless. I get the feeling that I'll have to answer all the "Thank You" notes I get this year with "I'm Sorry" cards.

I decide to try one more gift before I give up and head for dinner. The weirdest one of all catches my eye. It looks like a wicker basket in the shape of a giant horn. "A Cornucopia?" I say.

"That's for Spike." She says, and a chill goes down my spine. "I couldn't think of what else to get him."

"Of course not. What do you get for the bloodsucker who has everything?"

"That's just what I asked myself!" She says, smiling. I smile back, then check out the cornucopia again.

"What did you fill it with?" I say.

"Blood Pudding, Blood Oranges and little bottled Bloody Marys."

And suddenly I'm not all that hungry. "I'm sure they're all his favorites," I say, trying to put that and all the other presents out of my mind. The one I'm really looking for isn't immediately obvious. "I don't suppose you have mine here?" I say.

"Ah, ah, ah," she says, shaking her finger at me. "You don't get to see yours till Christmas Day, Mister. That's the rule. Come on. Let's go eat and then get all this stuff wrapped up." Then she gets up and heads for the kitchen.

"Your wish is my command." I say just before I get up to follow. I take one last look at the presents, shake my head and leave the living room.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"It's Beautiful!" Anya gushes on Christmas Morning. Its price tag will eat into a good part of my salary for the next decade or so, but I knew she'd like the diamond bracelet I got for her. It's gold, with 10 karat diamonds inlaid along the outside and "Xander loves Anya" inscribed along the inside. There are tears in her eyes as she tries it on, and I congratulate myself when I see that it fits perfectly.

"This is so wonderful! Thank you so much!" She says as she dives into my arms and kisses me. I kiss back with passion, loving every second of her gratitude. We both smile wide when we come up for air.

"So now I'll remember for next year." I say. "'Diamonds good. Bring much smooching.'"

"And I'll hold you to that!" She says. I'm sure she will. "Oh! Now for you!"

She rushes up and reaches toward the tree, grabbing onto a gift which is about three feet tall and four wide. I have no idea where she might have hidden something so big but I never saw it until it was wrapped and under the tree on Christmas Eve. She pulls the big gift till it's resting between us on the floor, then sits up with a proud look on her face. "Open it!" She says.

"Okay." I say, then I undo the bow and let it fall away as I start on the festive wrapping. Anya is bouncing on her seat, but is restraining herself from tearing at the gift to speed things along. When I have the box uncovered, I realize that the top of the huge white box is actually a strong posterboard cover resting on a finished wood base. I remove the cover carefully and take a look at what's resting on the base.

"It's...a dollhouse." I say, a little confused.

"No, silly!" She says. "It's a model house."

Then I take a good look. She's right. It's a little too elaborate for Barbie and Ken. This is the type of model an architect builds for an upcoming project, a finished version built to exacting scale designed to sell a prospective client on an idea. I've seen several in my work, but the detail on this house is amazing. It's a two-story job, with a front lawn, wide backyard and a two-car garage, complete with two little cars. There's a chimney, a Stone-face fence, a barbeque and even a dog house in the backyard. The house has dark red brickfacing, a gravel drive and a fancy walk leading up to the double doors in front. Whoever built it had even gone to the trouble of including a tiny mailbox on the fence, with "The Harrises" micro-stenciled onto it.

I run my fingers over various parts of the model, recognizing the feel of the textures immediately. "These are real building materials." I say in awe. Anya grins as her head bobs up and down.

Astroturf was used to make the grass, the dark roof is covered in real roofing material. The walls of the house aren't actually covered with tiny bricks, but they were made from the same materials and designed to look as if they were. More finished wood and glass was used to make the doors and the windows. I can't help but be impressed. This must have taken months to construct.

Anya gives me a conspiratorial look. "Do you want to see inside?" She says, and now I'm grinning like an idiot and bobbing my head. She reaches for the sides of the roof and lifts it carefully off the house, setting it aside gently. With the top gone I can see the second floor of the house. There are four bedrooms, all completely furnished. The Master Bedroom looks like it was lifted right off the floor of an Ethan Allen showroom, decorated with a Queen-sized bed and done in bright, soft tones. The guest bedroom is done in a similar style. The closets are filled with doll's clothes and linens, contributing to the illusion of the house being lived in. Even the bathroom is turned out, with expensive-looking fixtures and decorative colors. I resist the urge to try flushing the tiny toilet.

The really surprising rooms are the smaller bedrooms. One is decorated for a kid, most likely a little boy, with tiny team pennants, a racing car bed, and various little toys tossed around for effect. The littlest bedroom is set up as a nursery, done in various shades of pink and covered in frilly stuff, and centered on a tiny crib.

"Incredible." I breathe.

"Wait! There's more!!" Anya says, then gets a firm grip on the outer walls and lifts the second floor off. The first floor is just as furnished and detailed. The kitchen has an island and "all the latest appliances" like they used to say in the old commercials, and the dining room is furnished with a French-style dining room set. There's a den, set up like an office with all sorts of "guy stuff" decorating it, and in the living room, along with the same high quality furniture (bless my little demon girl's heart), there's a scale model forty-inch TV.

"This...is fantastic, honey." I finally manage to say. "How did you...?"

"Wait!" She says. "You haven't seen the best part." She reaches into the living room with an index finger and gently taps one of the walls. I look where she tapped and notice a plaque mounted above the fireplace. She hands me a magnifying glass and I use it to get a close look at what's on the plaque. It's an inscription, done with the same attention to detail as the stenciling on the mailbox.

  
  


Xander and Anya Harris---

Building a life together, one moment at a time.

  
  


I sit back on my haunches, stunned. I lay the magnifying glass down on the carpet as I try to take everything in.

"So...do you love it?" Anya says, biting her lip in anticipation.

"Do I...?" I say. "Of course I love it! And you!! How did you do this?" Then I experience a sudden moment of dread. "You didn't, like...do...spells or anything...?"

"No!" She says. "But...well, it does sort of have to do with Anyanka."

"Well," I say when she hesitates, "you can't drop that on me and then keep me in suspense."

Anya takes a deep breath, then tells me her story. "I came to this country several times before Cordelia summoned me. Once was in 1940. A woman in Michigan had read about me in a book she got from a curio shop and summoned me. She wanted vengeance on her husband for his cheating. He was in the Navy, stationed in the Philippines, and she found out he was working hard on living up to that 'Girl in Every Port' stereotype. She wished he'd never been born, and was happy with the universe that resulted...for a while. Then she got to miss him, and summoned me again to change everything back. Naturally, I told her I just didn't do that, and she didn't know about breaking the spell by breaking my amulet. That didn't change her mind, and she begged and pleaded with me, offering me anything I asked for if I just brought back her man. She promised she'd change him and make him better. I guess I was in a good mood or bored or something, and I did it, letting her know that I'd hold her to her promises.

"I watched her closely after that, waiting for the opportunity to collect on the debt she owed me. When she got him back, she read him the riot act, and that seemed to do the trick. He still looked and flirted once in a while, but after that lecture he never dallied. What sealed the deal was the War. When the Japanese overran that country and he escaped, it basically turned him into the most faithful man on Earth--at least in his eyes. He didn't want to ever lose his one true love, under any circumstances, and swore he wouldn't even look at another woman again. He didn't. I saw it all.

"He was one of those SeaBee guys during the War, and when he left the Navy he started his own contracting business with some of his buddies. He and his wife had lots of sons, and they all followed in their father's footsteps. When he retired he started building these fantastic model houses, and his sons would help him in their spare time. People all over Michigan come to see them, and he's sold several to collectors.

"Several months ago I found out how to get in touch with them and talked to his wife. I reminded her who I was and asked if I could get the house built. Don't worry. I didn't threaten her and I promised to pay if she could get it done by Christmas, and she got back to me later and said her husband and sons would do it for the cost of the materials."

"So," I say, "no demonic hocus-pocus or anything?"

"Scout's Honor." She says, giving me a scout salute. I won't sully the moment by telling her it's a Boy Scout salute.

"Then it's the best Christmas present I've ever gotten." I say. "Thank you."

  
  


"You're welcome." She says, and leans carefully over the house so we can kiss again. When we part, we put the house back together. "It light's up, too." She says. "We can leave its porch light on at night."

"Sure we can." I say as we slide the house back by the tree. "Y'know, I have to admit I was a little worried."

"I know." She says. "You thought I was going to get you something weird."

"Well...yeah, actually I did."

"Something bizarre and senseless."

"Um, well..."

"Something more...Anya-esque?"

"I wouldn't use quite that word, but..."

I don't get a chance to finish. "Well, sweetie, ya get that, too!" With that she stands up straight. As I follow her with my eyes she unties and whips off her robe, revealing her slim, sexy form, wrapped in a very big red ribbon that's topped with a bow at her breasts and nothing else.

She kicks her robe aside and starts to back up to the bedroom as she says "Well, Xander? Aren't you going to 'unwrap' me?"

She giggles and breaks into a run as I lunge up and start peeling off my robe and pajamas, following her supple little birthday suit through the apartment. She's on the bed when I catch up, laying seductively and brandishing a pair of scissors.

And as "Santa" starts to rise, I say with a grin "Merry Christmas to All."

  
  
  
  


Final Author's Note: ...and to all a Good Night!


End file.
